Neighborhood Theater

Last night at around four AM Lily barked at the window, waking me up. I stayed awake for quite a while listening to the hum of the fan. Then I heard boom, boom, boom, and then the sound of breaking glass. I jumped up and phoned the police, surprised that I could punch in the numbers in the dark. I told the dispatcher what I had heard. She asked for details. "The booms sounded like a hand hitting wood, maybe a door," I said. "The glass sounded like a window rather than a bottle. I rushed right to the phone to call. I'm sorry, I guess I'm not very helpful. That's all I know. Maybe another person will call with more information."

When I got off the phone my adrenalin was still pumping. I went to the window in the front of the house and saw a woman on the porch across the street yelling to her husband who was in silhouette behind her, moving in the lit kitchen window. "That's what we've been arguing about for the past two hours!" she shouted at him. She swept up the broken glass, went inside the house, and turned off the lights. It was A Streetcar Named Desire being acted out at full volume to a crouching unclothed audience of one (and her dog). The police drove by shining their spotlight on the porch but the scene had already ended. The actors had gone to bed. And I was amazed at how light the sky was at four thirty AM.